Cardinal Sin
by terfle
Summary: When Cardinal Richelieu finds out that the diamonds he ordered Milady to steal didn't get the result he was hoping for, he gets angry. An extension of a scene taken from the musical


She chose the chair opposite the door and sat, thinking about her possibilities. Richelieu was going down. She rested her fingers on the knife hidden in the top of her boots. Should things get ugly, she had no problem in making her mark on him. Not the same kind of mark as she had, but the blade was suitable for making an indelible impression on his eminence. Sadistic, she knew but considering that he was not a man who cared about anything other than 'saving people's souls' through increasingly violent methods, she felt she was justified in having a hand in bringing him down, if necessary. Hearing footsteps, she sat back in the chair, legs nonchalantly crossed over the arm.

The door creaked open and his eminence stalked through, a gaunt figure in a rust red cassock. He glared at her wondering how she had the affront to lounge so insolently across a chair. In trousers too. Unnatural. No female wore trousers like she did and still managed to look like a woman. He observed as always, the impossibly high heels of her boots rendering her as tall as himself. He gave no more than a quick glance to the curve of her breasts, visible under the indecently laced tunic. The whore certainly knew how to make the best of her assets.

When he spoke, his voice was clipped with disapproval. 'I would have thought you would have taken the precaution of silencing Buckingham before coming here. I saw him not more than fifteen minutes ago.'

'I have found other ways to keep people quiet. We can't all rely on brute force the way you do.' She smirked.

'The man is a liability' he insisted.

'I can handle him.'

'I suppose so. In your own...special way.' He let the insinuation sink in.

Her shrewd eyes appraised him; the meaning of his words weren't lost on her in any way. She had given up trying to explain that not every man could be bought by sex, some wanted other things and some, like Buckingham were easy to intimidate. So easy in fact, she didn't have to try very hard to seduce him. She just had to hint at a threat and he caved in. Richelieu, like most men had assumed that she would bed Buckingham for it. No matter. She got the diamonds which was what she came for.

The box was hidden under the chair; she hauled it out and handed it to him. Richelieu inspected it, his beady eyes triumphant in his conquest. The Musketeers would move heaven and earth to get these back but they were too late. His face changed when he unlatched the box and surveyed inside.

Either she was playing a joke on him or she had been fooled. And she was not easy to fool. He turned over the box and let the contents stream out. Her eyes widened, the shock was evident in her face. That double crossing bastard! She saw the salt pouring out of the box but she couldn't take it in. Richelieu snapped it shut and slammed it down on the coffee table next to her. His voice was soft, hinting at danger.

'What, may I ask is this?'

She couldn't speak. Something had gone severely wrong here.

'I ask for diamonds, you get me salt. Not a fair description of the goods, is it now, Milady?' The sneer on his face was contorted into a gargoyle grimace.

'This is not a trade!' She spat at him, eyes flashing with panic. 'You told me to get the box with the diamonds and I got the box where the diamonds are kept.'

'But there are no diamonds in there' he pointed out with clenched teeth. They were stepping on dangerous ground.

'I didn't have time to check! Of course I thought they were in the box, how would Buckingham have known to hide them?'

He paced up and down irritably. 'Someone must have told them.' He stopped and looked at her. She felt the anger creep up on her. She knocked the chair over in her rage.

'Don't you dare pin this on me' she hissed. 'I wouldn't be stupid enough to warn Buckingham and he wouldn't have had time to have hidden it while I was there. It was already switched, it must have been.'

Richelieu strode over and put a hand around her neck, warningly. She gasped and her knees gave way under the pressure of his threat. Still holding her with one hand, he lowered her to the floor and followed. His face was inches away from hers. He could feel her panic.

'I don't want to hear anything more about this little mistake. You find a way to get the diamonds even if you have to sleep with the entire city of Paris to get it. That shouldn't be too hard for you; you must have gone through half of them already.'

She couldn't speak, a feeling of despair and powerlessness came over her. She tried to fight against it but it was overwhelming her. She blinked back tears. She couldn't cry, not in front of this son of a bitch who had her by the throat. He leaned his grey head next to her auburn one and crooned menacingly to her. 'The Musketeers must be stopped. I will make sure of it. Just do as I say and we will win.' He waited until a tear had escaped down her cheek, a sure sign she was weakening. He let her go gently, almost tenderly as she cried out in grief. He had to make sure she understood. He kept his head next to hers as her breath evened out and her shoulders stopped shaking. He slowly peeled off the top of her sleeve and looked, for the first time properly at the brand she was forced to wear on her skin, a reminder of her sins. The fleur de lis was burnt deeply and expertly into her skin, tattooing her very veins with its malevolent sign. She might as well have been branded a witch than as a harlot and a thief. She was all three.

There weren't very many times he wished he could be an ordinary man and not represent Christ but his threshold to temptation was weakening at this point. He traced the outline of the mark lightly with the tip of his finger. He felt a shiver run through him that he couldn't control. He was being bewitched by this wretched sinner.

That was furthest from her mind right now. She couldn't stop thinking of Athos, his melancholy face flashed into her mind. That she had to take part in destroying him was too much. She shook Richelieu's hand off, barely noticing his pensive mood. She had calmed down sufficiently to take in his dismissal of her. She stated the obvious with disdain.

'There are only two types of women for you, Cardinal. We can either be Mary the mother or Maria the whore. There is room for nothing else in your eyes.'

Richelieu leaned in even closer, inhaling her sweet lavender scent. He let his calloused fingers gently touch her cheek, wiping the tear away. She turned her head away, her breath catching.

'You have the face of the Madonna, Milady but it is ruined with the body of Magdalena.' He let his fingers move round deliberately to her exposed shoulder and further down. 'But you are beyond saving.' The bitter set of her lips was all he needed to see to know what she thought of him. She didn't care for his touch.

Unfortunately for her, he would be making the decisions around here. He took his hand away and pushed her from him.

'I think we should resume this conversation when you're in a clearer mind.' He abruptly stood up and left as swiftly as he came, footsteps echoing away, leaving her curled up on the floor in misery. He had got to her again and she was left defenceless.

She vowed to use her knife next time. Clutching it, she slashed holes in the chair, imagining it to be him. What she wouldn't do to that man next time he had the presumption that she was dispensable.

She screamed her anguish and pushed the coffee table over with a fist. It smashed as easily as her heart did that day when Athos had cast her aside for her sins. Men! They were all the same. Better to use them, manipulate them then to be a toy in their games. They were bastards, every last one of them.


End file.
